


One Good One (Reason to Stay)

by her_imperius_condessy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10 + 1, Angst, Car Sex, Dean is an Ass sometimes, Drinking, Fluff, Individual Warnings At Chapter Beginnings, Language, M/M, No Season 12, Post Season 11 Alternate Ending, Saving People Yada Yada Yada, Wall Sex, angst with happy ending, human!Cas, tags will be updated with each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/her_imperius_condessy/pseuds/her_imperius_condessy
Summary: Cas is working this human thing out. As much as he loves Dean and Sam, he's started a list of reasons to go.And that list is very person-specific.Can Cas find that one reason to never leave?





	1. The List

**Author's Note:**

> Short prequel chapter. Chapter one tomorrow or the next day.

Castiel sat at the small table nestled next to the motel window, blue and green neon bleeding across the surface, staining his hands and the faded paper in front of him in their muted colors. A truck heading down the Interstate blared its horn despite the early hour, and the lights briefly lit the small room up. But Cas didn't look up from the paper, sitting innocently on the Formica top.

It was torn from a notebook, the light blue lines faded. There was a tear through one of the ring holes, and the corners were all frayed. There was very little actually written, but what was on there was neatly penned, and rescribed when needed, as it had been a few months since the list was begun.

Since then, the little scrap of paper had been moved around from inside of book to book, always hidden except for when Castiel would pull it out to read it, possibly add to it, and then dismiss it.

He'd learned that all that sneakiness had been needless, but even now he didn't feel comfortable enough to flip the lamp on. Cas ran his thumb across the top, the header and title of his list.

_Reasons To Leave_

There was always a pervasive nausea that overcame Cas when he read that. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving Sam and Dean, the only friends and family he had now. He didn't know where he'd go. Claire would possibly allow for him to stay in Sioux Falls, but that would be temporary. Castiel knew more about being human this time; he could manage without being homeless this time, no matter where he ended up.

This wasn't exactly the future Cas had imagined on the day he stood before Chuck and agreed to sacrifice his Grace to help power down the Darkness after Chuck had been so badly wounded by her. 

He had been offered a choice. A human, mortal life, or a life in Heaven, tied to the dimension and living off the Graces of his siblings. Dean had implored him to go. That he'd still be an angel, and have his family.

"We can hang out after I'm dead, Cas."

That had been what decided it for Cas. The idea that he might never get to see Dean laugh, or listen to Sam give a lecture on reshelving the Bunker library, or hear Claire half-heartedly complain about Alex, was too much for him.

And cheeseburgers. Heaven lacked cheeseburgers. At least, that was a reason he'd given Dean when the man had come to pick him up after the act of removing his Grace had sent Castiel plummeting into a Florida marsh.

There had been a few rough weeks after that, mostly spent hanging around the Bunker. The finality of his situation, however voluntary, hit him hard. But with words of encouragement...

_Dean shoved his way into Cas's room and strode right up to the bed._

_Cas grumbled under the covers. "Wazzit?"_

_"Up and at 'em!"_

_Dean grabbed at the lumps in the bed, heedless of what areas of Cas's body they may be, and hauled everything into the floor._

_Cas blinked and looked around, clearly trying to logic how he'd gotten from Point A to Point B so quickly._

_"Snap to, man. Breakfast, then you, me, gun range."_

_Dean had plodded out as efficiently as he'd came, and Sam slid in on his wake, a Saint bearing a cup of coffee and a kind grimace._

_"Morning, Cas."_

_He patted Cas on the head, then followed his brother. Cas just sat on the cold concrete, and ignored the phantom pressure on his knee where Dean had grabbed him._

...Castiel had gotten into a training regimen.

He began to get invited along on hunts. And then he was allowed to join in on the legwork parts.

There had been a hiccup, when Cas had been faced with a vampire, and he had been pinned. Cas had moved to smite the monster on instinct, newer options forgotten. Had it not been for a quick reaction from Sam, Cas may have paid dearly.

Dean had refused to even acknowledge Cas's existence for three days after that, and another week before he lost that expression that made him look like a stick had been shoved up his rear.

But soon there was an easy routine of hunts, of research, of random 'being human' lessons around the Bunker. And that was when the list began. Well, the first item on the list. If Cas wasn't mistaken, he began the list after item number three.

_1\. Dean's Indecisiveness_

_2\. Dean's Drinking_

_3\. Dean's Insensitivity_

_4\. Dean's Denial_

_5\. Dean's Temper_

_6\. Dean's Abandonment Issues_

_7\. Dean's Sacrifice_

_8\. Dean's Relationship With Sam_

_9\. Dean's Apathy_

_10\. Dean's Pride_

Castiel was sure that if he looked, he could come up with a lot of Dean unrelated reasons to not stay with the Winchesters, but these were the ones that had really stuck out at him. He rubbed his hand over the paper. It all seemed so absurd now, now that Cas and Dean had had it out.

Mind rushing with all the goings on of the night before, Cas struggled to remember the exact instances that had led to him setting pen to paper and writing these ten reasons.

Except the first one.

Cas chuckled. The first reason.

You didn't always find yourself falling in love in the middle of a dingy laundromat, did you?


	2. Dean's Indecisiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Individual warnings: Language, wall sex.
> 
> I've not written any sort of smut in a long time. Apologies.

"I mean, this _can't_ be what you fell for."

Castiel glanced up from his pilfered book in confusion. Dean had started up a coffee-induced stream of consciousness shortly after they'd entered the laundromat, and Cas had started to tune him out soon after.

Dean gestured around, waving the jeans he was holding as emphasis. "This is crap, Cas."

He looked down at the book, then closed it ruefully. "I'm not sure what you mean." 

Dean scoffed and threw the pants in the machine. "You were a fucking warrior of Heaven, you can't tell me this doesn't get you down."

He stared at Cas, waiting for a response. It wasn't the first time; Castiel had noticed an uptick in Dean's amount of staring, lately. But it was the first time Dean had ever broached the subject of his decision to join humanity. It must have been weighing on his mind.

"I see nothing to be down about, Dean."

The other man huffed. "It's..."

He checked his watch. "Two twenty-six A.M. You're stuck in The Middle Of Nowhere, Montana with me, post-wraith, doing laundry..."

" _You're_ doing laundry. You still won't let me handle the washing powders."

"Yeah, because you call them _washing powders_ , like some old granny."

Cas rolled his eyes as Dean continued. "Besides, I wash, you fold, that's the deal."

Dean finished putting the load on to wash, then plopped down in the little scooped plastic seat next to Cas. "Look around, man. This is _depressing_. Can you honestly tell me this is what you signed up for?"

Castiel looked around the small space as he was told. Despite the late hour, they weren't alone. There was a group of girls, college-aged, giggling about gossip and quizzing each other for an upcoming test while they folded their delicates. Then there was a middle-aged man, who glanced down forlornly at a ring he had on a chain around his neck, and weighed different detergents between his hands as if he'd never done this before. Behind a low desk was the attendant, an older woman who was meticulously working a Sudoko puzzle book.

The building was old, the machines bordering on ancient. Judging by the faded colors and the odd font on the signs posted above the machines, Cas would guess that little had changed here since the seventies.

He hummed in acquiescence. "I see what you mean. But I do not regret my decision, and I don't like you suggesting that I should."

Dean didn't say anything; by now, Castiel didn't have look to know that Dean was making a mocking face at him. There was a silence, and Cas took it as permission to reopen his book. Dean took out his phone soon after, playing some game that caused him to curse under his breath every other minute or so.

About half an hour passed, Dean's battery dying moments before it was time to move everything from the three washers they'd occupied into the dryers. When that was done, Dean resumed his seat. Castiel was reminded that Dean no longer had a distraction when he began to pester him again. 

"The fuck are you reading?"

Cas sighed and closed the book. "It was left behind here."

It had been sitting innocently on the small table, the home laminated bookmark reading LIVE LAUGH LOVE in sparkle glitter calligraphy sticking out at an odd angle. Cas had picked it up, curious. The story was contrite; an investigative journalist lives with a multimillionaire in order to get acquainted for the piece she was writing. Along the way, she learns of his dubious past, and digs into his heart. They'd had carnal relations three times already, and Cas was only halfway through.

Dean was frowning at the cover. "Those books are for menopausal women and lonely cat ladies."

He shrugged. "The Gas n' Sip sold books like this. I never minded reading them. Not that I had much of a choice."

Cas tried not to be resentful of his first stint of humanity, but it was hard sometimes. 

"What, Rexford didn't have a library?"

Cas shook his head. "It did. But to sign up for a card, you had to have a residential address."

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah. Sorry again about that."

Cas shrugged the apology away. "It's forgotten." 

At that moment, the phone in Castiel's pocket chimed. He fished it out with some difficulty, since he wasn't wearing his usual clothes. 

"It's from Sam. He wants to know why you aren't answering his messages."

Another chime. "Also, he wants to know what's taking so long. He wants his clothing."

Dean groaned and, without asking, grabbed Cas's phone, tapping out responses that were no doubt rude.

Their hunt had taken longer than expected, and due to communication issues, it wasn't until they got back to the motel, slightly bloody and banged up, that they discovered they had next to no clothes.

Sam was back at the motel, left with only a pair of boxers that were actually Castiel's. He'd stayed behind because the wraith had banged his shoulder pretty badly, and he had a nasty bruise on his cheek. 

Dean was wearing his oldest pair of jeans that were more frayed than they were denim at this point, and a t-shirt that he'd complained about because it was too tight. Personally, Cas thought that the way it hugged his chest muscles and his biceps was very compelling. 

Cas was stuck in a pair of jeans that were Sam's, too long in the leg and too loose around the waist. His shirt he'd actually found in the back of the Impala. It belonged to Dean, and had been shed and thrown in the trunk after a mishap that ended with him going for an impromptu swim in the Missouri River. It was scratchy, and smelled like silt, but under that was Dean's scent, and Cas found it soothing.

Neither of them had clean boxers or socks, which had been proving very uncomfortable.

Dean dropped the phone back in Cas's lap with a huff. Cas didn't read Dean's messages, but sent an apology to Sam all the same. 

He looked up from the screen, only to see Dean hurriedly turn his face away. He'd been staring again.

"Dean?"

A grunt was the only response he got. "Is there something you wanted?"

Dean turned, an answer on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it. Instead, he pointed at the book, still in Cas's lap.

"Is that...That kinda, you know...Is that what...you'd like?"

Cas frowned. "That was remarkably jumbled, even for you."

Dean shook his head. "Come on. I'm being...sincere and stuff. What...What do you _want_ , Cas?"

He ran his palm over the cover. "I don't think about it. I'm happy the way things are. There's nothing I want."

"Everybody wants _something_ , man."

Cas turned and saw Dean's eyes looking right into him, shamelessly now. He started to wonder if the man was trying to tell him something.

"What do _you_ want, Dean?"

Dean faltered, glancing away at first, then actually turning his gaze right at Cas's mouth. After a minute he answered.

"I'm not gay."

The randomness of the statement made Cas lean back and frown. "I know that."

"And you're..."

Dean waved his hand up and down. "I don't know. What are you?"

This conversation had taken an odd turn, but Cas decided to stick with it. "I've spent eternity existing as a wave of energy. The spectrum of human sexuality is new to me."

Dean chuckled, and it sounded fond. "Right. You're new. This..."

He reached out, and trailed a finger tip across Cas's shoulder, the callused pad rough against the stiff fabric. "This is a bad idea."

Cas turned slightly in his seat, and the movement caused Dean to grip his shoulder lightly. "What's a bad idea?"

Dean looked unimpressed. "You're new, not naive."

Through everything, Dean's eyes hadn't left his lips for more than a couple of seconds. Self-conscious, Castiel licked at them, and was rewarded by a faint blush rise up in Dean's face.

"Why is it a bad idea?"

Dean looked up, his green eyes meeting Cas's, and there was a note of something there, something he'd never seen. Some kind of unknown desperation tinging his voice and his gaze. "Come on, Cas. It's a bad idea."

So Cas turned away, settling back in the uncomfortable seat. "Okay."

Dean didn't move. Cas made it down half a page. "You son of a bitch."

Cas groaned and threw his head back in exasperation. "What _now_?"

But rather than answer him, Dean gulped and made an aborted movement with his hands. He glanced around, his eyes focusing on something behind Cas. Dean abruptly stood, walking over to the desk. Cas turned to look; it was the restroom door, a sign affixed that read 'SEE ATTENDANT FOR RESTROOM KEY'.

Dean came back, holding the key on its oddly shaped ring tightly in his hand. He jerked his head as he walked past Cas. "Come on."

Castiel hesitated. Perhaps this _was_ a bad idea. But, a part of him reacted and made the decision for him.

It was the part of him that had admired the freckles on the body he'd newly recreated with only slightly less than his usual clinical detachment. It was the part of him that always sought Dean out in times of trouble. It was the part of him that had wanted to cry, every night when Dean would pray in Purgatory. It was the part of him that, when faced with human arousal for the first time, had pictured creased green eyes to spur him to completion. 

It was the little, secretive part of him that he tried to ignore most days. Because, this...Cas never thought this would happen.

Cas closed the door behind him. A creaky fan was whirring in the ceiling. The toilet and sink were so off-white they were yellow, a long crack ran the length of the toilet bowl, and the sink was half covered in rust stains.

Whoever had been in last hadn't flushed.

Cas felt a hysterical giggle build up in his throat, and squashed it down. 

This wasn't really happening, was it? _Here_?

Dean stood in the middle of the room and shrugged as he looked around, spinning slowly on his heel. "Could be worse," he remarked.

He took the few steps over to Cas, who was still in front of the door, and reached up, the backs of his fingers rasping against Cas's cheek.

"This something you want?"

Dean's voice was soft, but it still echoed weirdly amongst the tiles. His touch felt soft as well.

When Castiel didn't answer right away, Dean stepped even closer. Cas could feel the heat off Dean's body, and smell the shampoo that Sam always packed. 

"You gotta tell me," was whispered against Cas's neck, and he shivered. 

The breath caught in Castiel's throat and he nodded, his chin inadvertently hitting below Dean's ear. "Yes. This is what I want."

Dean answered with a kiss, but not the one Cas expected. He kissed him under his jaw, where it met with his throat. Then another on the opposite side, on the cheekbone just below the eye.

It continued like that for a few more passes over Castiel's face, over his cheeks, forehead, throat, and eyes. But never on the lips. 

The threat of the oddly hysterical giggle made itself known again. Cas managed to tamp it down, but Dean seemed to pick up on it. Possibly from osmosis.

He pulled away very slightly. "Everything okay?"

Cas nodded. "I just...I feel like I should be waking up. Like I fell asleep reading that ridiculous book."

Dean's lips twitched. "When you have sex dreams, am I usually in them?"

His voice was low and heavy. Cas decided to answer honestly. 

"It usually ends up that way."

Castiel thought for a second and realized that that was one of those truths that may make Dean uncomfortable. "I didn't..."

But Dean cut him off with a shake of the head. "'S hot."

And then he kissed Cas, properly, and on the lips.

For the first few seconds, it was too hot. Cas felt like he was being smothered, breathing in heat and humid air. There was no romantic revelation, no proverbial fireworks, just the clank of the fan overhead.

Dean pulled away and leveled Cas with an impatient eye. "You're thinking too much, man. Just...You know how to kiss. Relax. Just me and you."

This time when Dean leaned in, Cas leaned, too, meeting him partway. Dean hummed his approval, moving his hands down to Castiel's waist, and pulling him closer. To steady himself, Cas moved his own hands to the shoulders and biceps that he'd admired earlier. It was still hot, but Cas could breathe better now. 

And he was breathing in _Dean_. Not just the faint whisps of his aftershave, or the tangy hints of sweat that clung to Dean's temples, but now also low, whispery moans. 

Cas was the one who deepened it, pushing his tongue past Dean's parted lips, and running it along Dean's own. He still tasted like the one beer he'd had back at the motel, mixed with the cappuccino he'd had soon after. Dean's hands gripped his hips tighter, and Cas suddenly felt himself moving.

He clutched at Dean's arm, inadvertently, in the same place he'd branded all those years ago. Cool tile met his back, and Cas realized he'd been pushed against the wall, between the door and the empty paper towel dispenser. Dean crowded in closer, and Castiel widened his stance so Dean could move in between his legs.

Only moments before, Dean had been sweet, slow. Not so now. He pressed against Cas's body, rutting their pelvises together with no preamble whatsoever. 

That was when they were both forcibly reminded of something they'd not thought about in a while.

The head of Castiel's steadily hardening erection was pushed roughly against the raspy back of the zipper, biting at the sensitive skin painfully. Cas hissed in an inhale, and tried to pull away from Dean. But Dean hurriedly took a quarter step back, a grunt of displeasure hinting that he'd had an experience similar to Cas's.

Dean was impatiently pulling at his own fly, cursing quietly about the laundry. After a moment, he straightened up, jeans now pooled at his ankles. 

It wasn't anything Cas hadn't seen before. Thanks to some ill-timed invisible snooping, it wasn't even the first time he'd seen the man when he was aroused. But, despite that, Dean's form was always something worthy of admiration.

Due to said admiration, Cas was somewhat distracted, and it took him a moment to realize Dean was now pulling on _his_ belt.

"Off, off," he was murmuring under his breath. Cas made a move to help him, but Dean batted his hand away. "I got this."

Soon, Cas stood as Dean did. He thought that he'd feel naked under Dean's gaze. He had felt naked with April. Naked and confused. But Dean's eyes didn't make him naked. They made him hungry. 

Cas took the initiative again, reaching out and slipping his palms under the hem of the t-shirt Dean wore. He made sure to keep his hand flat on the journey from Dean's hips all the way up to his shoulders.

Dean was grinning as he took the shirt from Cas's hand and dropped it on the dubious floor. "I'd offer to do the same, but that might make this uncomfortable."

"What are you..."

He pushed Cas back into their original position against the wall, now without biting zippers in the way. Their mouths found each other again, and for a few minutes that was all it was. Open kisses and hips occasionally rubbing together.

Then, Dean abruptly kicked at Cas's left foot. "Step out of this."

Castiel had to give his brain a moment to come back down. "What?"

"Your boot. Take it off."

That seemed like an odd request, but he complied, out of curiosity more than anything.

"The pants leg, too."

He did so. "Now hold on."

That was the only warning Cas got, and he had a second to scramble for a hold around Dean's shoulders. Then, there were firm hands behind his knees. Cas lifted up where he needed to, and then he and Dean were pressed chest to chest. The jeans hung absurdly on one shoed foot, and the tile was icy where the back of his shirt had rolled up.

But those things didn't matter. Not when Dean held him with such surety, not when he started thrusting against him.

The world had shrunk. There was no laundry that was in need of folding. There was no Sam Winchester. No more monsters. Just Dean and Cas, just in this bathroom. Their breaths echoed, as loud as the clangy fan. 

After one particular grind, Castiel moaned, louder than he meant to. "Shh," Dean murmured into his throat, but punctuated it with an even harder movement. 

Cas whimpered and buried his face into Dean's shoulder. He absentmindedly began sucking a lingering kiss there.

"No marks, man."

Dean's voice was getting shaky. Castiel frowned; it seemed an odd order. The grip that Dean had on the back of his thighs was certainly going to bruise. But perhaps that could be excused by the wraith.

The wraith couldn't explain away a hickey.

Dean's movements were sharper now, no longer controlled. Forgetting his own rule, he bit painfully at Castiel's collarbone and he came, most of the ejaculate splashing onto his naked torso. Dean went boneless, and Cas just barely found his footing after his legs were dropped. Dean steadied himself with a hand against the wall on each side of Cas. He had his eyes closed, but there was a smile on his lips.

Cas was at something of a loss. What was appropriate here? He was still hard, hard as a _rock_ , but Dean didn't seem inclined to help. Could he...just...

He reached down, and took himself in hand. The friction of his own skin was like a ghost compared to how Dean had felt moving against him, but he was so close it barely mattered. But Cas had only pumped his hand a few times before Dean's hand was on his wrist like iron. "Wait."

Castiel could've sobbed. Might have, because Dean made an impatient shh at him. That was Dean's hand on him. Firm, and it was...Wet?

Cas made the mistake of looking down. Dean was using his own come as a lubricant. Cas lost it soon after realizing that.

Dean hurriedly redressed while Cas leaned against the now warm tile and caught his breath. The floor was unpleasantly sticky under his one bare foot, so as soon as he had his balance back, Cas stepped back into the jeans, then his boot.

As Cas was redoing the belt, he caught Dean's eye. He was flushed, but he handed Cas a damp wad of toilet paper.

"For the..." He gestured at Cas's groin. "Most of it's on the shirt, but...Anyway."

Dean hesitated, hand on the doorknob. Something shuttered behind his eyes, and he faced Cas.

"This doesn't leave this room, you understand? Nobody can know about this. Especially Sam. Sam finds out and I kill you."

Cas felt something unpleasant and slimy in his heart, but he ignored it. He'd honestly expected something like this.

"Then may I ask something, before we leave this room?"

Dean scowled but didn't say no. "Why? Why here, tonight? What, what happened?"

He released a small, humorless chuckle. "My battery died, man. We're in The Middle Of Nowhere, Montana, it's..."

Dean looked at his watch again. "Four thirteen A.M., and my battery died."

Now he refused to look Cas in the eye. "That bother you?"

"No. Of course not."

Castiel seldom lied when he didn't have to, but it seemed necessary. Dean grunted and turned the knob. "I'll grab you a clean shirt."

In Dean's sudden absence, the room seemed larger, the fan clangier. Their scents mingled in the air. 

Devoid of anything else to do, Cas flushed the toilet. It felt like an accomplishment.

There was a tap at the door. "Cas?"

He pulled the door open a ways. Dean had a faint smile back on his lips. "Here. Just throw that one in the trash. And hurry up. These fuckers ain't gonna fold themselves."

That was him. Old Dean. Cas nodded his understanding.

If Dean could go on as if nothing had happened, then so could Cas. But then he saw the t-shirt. It wasn't Cas's. Cas didn't own a shirt like this, worn, soft cotton, with a faded Pink Floyd logo.

Dean had picked this out. Did it mean something?

Cas shook his head and pulled off the soiled shirt, reeking now of his fluids mixed with river water. He looked in the water spotted mirror. Dean had, in fact, left a sizable bruise on his collar. But it was easily covered by the new shirt. He would wear it, and act like it was no big deal.

He wadded up the old cotton and shoved it in the overly full trash can, then he flicked the light off and closed the door. 

It was done.

XxxX

Two weeks after Montana found Castiel sitting on his bed, enjoying some peace and quiet, and finally getting to the last chapter in his book. 

The two weeks had been hectic. While Dean and Cas had been gone, Sam had caught news of ghoulish activity in Pittsburg. When that was done, they had been driving back to the Bunker, and Jody called with a mysterious story about a group of children who had vanished one night only to return a month later, with no memory of the events. 

That had taken a while, seeing as Dean was the only one amongst them who could see cloaked Fairies, a fact which irked him to no end. That was followed by a couple of days at home, which was interrupted by sightings of a disturbing creature in New Mexico.

They had gotten back to the Bunker two nights ago, Cas still healing from a vicious bite from the Chupacabra on his right side. The next day had been spent sleeping, and neither Sam nor Dean bothered him.

Now, he was enjoying the peaceful alone time, no monsters on the immediate horizon, the only irritant the itching wound hidden under a bandage.

Abruptly, there were footsteps in the hall, and Dean stood in his doorway. That wasn't surprising; their rooms were close together.

"Hey. Sam went for a run. I figure we got about an hour before he's back."

Cas nodded. "Okay."

Dean walked across the room, stopping to toe off his shoes before inexplicably climbing over Cas, hovering above him for a moment, before lowering himself into a position that mimicked Cas's, sitting next to him, their hips and legs pressed together.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

The man just shrugged. "Told ya. We got a hour or so."

This was the first time Dean had even remotely alluded to what had happened in Montana. "Did your phone die again?"

It made sense. He was constantly losing chargers in spite of Sam's attempt to keep them well stocked.

"What?"

Dean had the gall to look confused. "No, I...I've been thinking. Maybe we should have an arrangement."

"An arrangement?"

Dean shrugged. "You know, a friends with benefit kinda thing."

"Friends with benefits?"

Now Dean scowled. "Are you just gonna repeat everything I say? It's fucking annoying."

"Annoying?"

That surprised a chuckle out of the other man, who snorted against his hand and shook his head. "You little shit."

But it was said with so much fondness that it tugged at Castiel's heart. This was a _Bad Idea_. He wasn't stupid; the largest part of his brain told him to say no. Dean would understand, and their friendship would remain unchanged. 

But that other part of him, the part that had made him follow Dean into the bathroom that night, spoke up. Cas could stop it if he got in too deep. He wanted this.

He was, as Balthazar would've told him, thinking with his dick.

"As I understand it," Cas begun after a brief silence, "you and I will retain our friendship, while occasionally having casual sex with each other."

Dean snapped his fingers. "It's perfect! I can't always be bothered to pick up chicks, and I know you gotta lonely sometimes. This way..."

He leaned over and nosed against Cas's ear. "We're both good."

Cas made himself pull away slightly. There was something he needed to know first.

"What changed your mind?"

Dean looked at him, an unguarded pain in his eyes. "You...You scared the shit outta me. I thought...Well, life's short. Like the philosopher said, 'death ain't nothing but a heartbeat away."

Cas frowned, always annoyed when the information Metatron forced into his head made itself known. 

"I am reasonably certain Gangsta's Paradise isn't a philosophical work."

Dean just smiled, his the crinkles around his eyes deepening. "You might be right."

They sat in silence for a moment, Dean fidgeting with a loose string on Cas's pillowcase. Eventually, he reached over, his hand ghosting unerringly over the area where his t-shirt hid the bandages. If Cas focused on the memories, he could see Dean's face above him, soon after being bitten. He'd looked panicked, shouting at Sam to help, that Cas was hurt. Cas couldn't remember the words that Dean had whispered into his hair while he held him close to keep pressure on the wound.

"Is this gonna be a problem?"

Cas shook his head. "Don't touch it too much and it'll be fine."

Dean moved his hand, fingers resting just above the top of Cas's jeans. "I'll touch other things, then."

Cas gulped slowly. It seemed that they had an understanding now. "And no one knows?"

Dean hummed, now hot against Cas's neck. "Our secret. I mean, if you _do_ want this?"

Cas grabbed the wrist that had been slowly easing down to his groin. With a smooth fighting move that Sam had taught him, Cas flipped Dean down onto his back, and pinned him there with a thigh tossed over Dean's hips.

Dean grunted, surprise in his eyes, but arousal was also present. 

"I want _you_."

Mind made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos/comments appreciated, and thanks!


	3. Dean's Drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Individual warnings: drinking (duh), Dean/OFC offscreen non-explicit, language, hand jobs.

Cas didn't really like bars all that much, especially when they were so full of people. The threat of so much unintended social interaction was too much for him, even at the best of times. But he conceded that bars had their purposes, and right now the Brothers Winchester were using those purposes to their full extent.

"One more. Come on man, one more."

Cas rolled his eyes, but indulged Dean, who tossed back his own shot with relish. 

They had been at this bar for a couple of hours now. Castiel had been pacing himself, determined not to get too inebriated. Dean clearly had no such qualms. Sam had disappeared, Cas assumed, with the leggy blonde who had caught his eye, stiletto heels taller than her skirt had been long. 

They deserved their diversions, though. This bar visit came on the tail end of a difficult hunt. A poltergeist was tormenting an Arkansas family, and the young daughter was getting the worst of it. 

The hunters had thought they'd dug up the right bones, but by the time Sam had realized their mistake, the family, who'd believed they were safe, had been attacked again.

The innocent girl hadn't survived.

They got the right bones, and got out of town as quickly as they could. The mother's face still lingered in Castiel's mind. A few counties over, Dean had pulled into a gravel parking lot.

"Bar?"

Sam had grunted. "Yeah. Bar."

A song came on the jukebox, and everyone excitedly got into positions on the dance floor, shuffling and dipping.

Cas squinted in confusion. "What are they doing? It appears to be some sort of ritual."

Dean chuckled. "Close. They're line dancing. Rule Number...Fuck, I forgot. Whatever, Number of Humanity, if you're this far south and Achy Breaky Heart, or Boot Scootin' Boogie comes on the radio, everyone line dances."

"We aren't line dancing."

Dean looked hilariously appalled by the suggestion. "We ain't hicks!"

Even most of the way to being drunk, Dean seemed to realize how that sounded. "Cas. We are not hicks," he said in a much calmer tone.

He leaned over the bar, waving two fingers at the bartender, who sent Dean a brief nod.

"Dean, I don't..."

Dean groaned. " _Cas_. I brought us here to do three things. Get wasted, get laid, or both. Now me and Sammy, we're with the damn program. Why aren't you?"

Cas frowned. To answer honestly would reveal something private about himself. That being drunk, not in full control of his faculties, was something he found unpleasant. He had, since becoming human again, built up a tolerance for alcohol. Even now, he only had a faint buzz under his skin. He wouldn't handle much more. Cas decided to deflect.

"I...Would not be adverse to the second part of your program."

Dean took a couple of moments to scowl, piecing that statement together. 

Since the beginning of their arrangement, Cas had been with Dean three times. The first had been in Cas's room, Dean tender and careful of the wounds on Cas's side. Next had been a couple of weeks later, frantic groping in the Bunker kitchen. And then only a few days prior, while Sam had been researching in the town.

Dean shook his head. "Naw. I don't...Don't, you know, take it personal. But I don't think sex'll make me feel better about this."

Cas simply nodded, fully understanding. "Okay. Perhaps I should walk to that motel we passed. I can get us all a room."

They had been doing that lately. Getting a double room, with one man sleeping on the couch, usually Dean because of his ineptitude with childhood games. Cas would often take pity on him after the first night and offer to switch, however. 

Dean nodded. "Text me the room number. Send it to Sam, too."

Then he did the unexpected, and slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out the car keys and sliding them to Cas.

"Dean? What the hell are you doing?"

Dean knocked back another shot. "One of us is sober, and it ain't me. Go. I trust ya."

Cas very carefully lifted the keys from the bar, half-expecting Dean to change his mind and snatch them away. But Dean simply picked up the shot that had been intended for Cas, and he downed it, humming around the liquid.

"Seriously. Go, man. See ya later. I'll call if I can't walk to the motel."

He felt like he should make some attempt to change Dean's mind. "You don't even let Sam drive this car."

Dean winced. "Not a _car_ , Jesus. She's a beautiful lady."

He took a finger and poked Cas firmly in the chest. "And she will be treated as such. Now go, Cas. I trust that she'll be in one perfect piece come mornin'." 

Dean turned away from Cas in an obvious dismissal, trying to wave down the beleaguered bartender. Cas slid off the stool, and began to move his way across the room, slipping between groups of people all crowded together.

The car was parked on the far reaches of the gravel lot, easy to locate. Cas sat in the driver's seat, not for the first time, but for the first with the intentions of driving the car.

"I...Understand that this is out of the norm. I am not who you are used to. However, I believe that if we work together, we can get to the motel with no incident. Okay?"

Cas turned the key in the ignition, whispering a prayer; 'don't blow up don't blow up don't blow up'.

Ten minutes later found Cas and Baby safely parked at the Sunset Inn. Cas sent identical texts to the brothers reading Room 23, then settled on one of the beds, reading a book he'd bought at a Gas-N-Sip outside Little Rock. 

It was about alien abductions, very fascinating information. Dean had told him to 'stop reading that dumb-ass horseshit'. Sam had rolled his eyes, but then asked to borrow it when he was finished.

Cas got through a chapter and a half before there was a loud thump, followed by a giggle, and then the doorknob jiggling. 

Dean's voice came through. "Cas? _Caaaasssss_. Open 'er up, man!"

There was a second, giggily voice, too quiet to make out, that gave Castiel pause. But he shrugged, deciding to trust Dean. 

He'd just turned the latch for the lock, when Dean pushed past him. The other voice was explained when he pulled a woman behind him, shorter, with jet black hair and unnervingly piercing blue eyes.

"Bathroom?"

Despite not having even stepped more than a foot in the room, Dean pointed. "On the left, baby. Take your time, I'll be ready when you are."

She winked, and as soon as the bathroom door shut, Dean was on Cas.

"You gotta get out."

Cas could only blink owlishly. "Ex...Excuse me?"

"You. Out. Get. Need it in Spanish?"

"You don't speak Spanish, Dean."

He just frowned and opened the door wider. "One? Fuck you. Two? Just _go_."

Cas sighed and picked his book up from the bed. "Where would you like me to go?"

Dean just hummed in satisfaction. "Get another room, sleep in the car, I give exactly less than one full fuck what you do."

Castiel tried to not let than sting too harshly. But it was a hard thing to do. He pulled his jacket on and sighed. "I thought..."

Dean huffed deeply. "What now?"

"No...Nothing. I just, we were talking earlier, and you..." 

The bathroom door began to open, and Dean shook his head. "I do not _care_ , Cas. If you stick around much longer, you're gonna be the baggage."

He actually grabbed Cas by the sleeve and pushed. "Get out there with the other baggage."

Cas found himself in the night, alone. He had finally resigned himself to start walking towards the office when the cloudy skies opened up, and hard waves of rain came down.

Castiel was reminded of a Charlie Brown cartoon that Metatron had shoved into his brain. It always rains on the unloved.

The young woman popping her gum in the office informed him that the only other room was directly adjacent to the one Dean and Whats-Her-Name had taken over. Cas spent the whole desperate run across the parking lot praying that the walls were of an adequate depth.

The first thing Cas did upon entering Room 25 was turn on the television. Because of the storm, only one channel came in, and it was showing Gone With The Wind. So Cas set in to watch it, Scarlet's dilemma blocking out anything that may come from the other room.

The camera was panning over the train yard hospital when Cas heard a thud outside. There was some muffled cursing, in a familiar voice, followed by more thuds.

Cas got up and opened the door. Sam stood next door, shaking his head. "Sam?"

Sam looked at Cas, looked at the room number, looked at his phone, then looked at the other room's number. Possibly because he was in a less than stellar mood, Cas felt a stab of unkind amusement at Sam's confused frown, thinking rudely of Crowley's nickname for him.

Feeling guilty, Cas waved Sam in. "I'm sorry. Dean...Dean is, uh..."

Sam walked by and chuckled. "Gotta girl, huh? Did he, did he call you 'baggage'? Tell you to sleep in the car?"

Cas locked the door. "Yes. He did."

Sam snorted and sat on the bed that Cas hadn't touched. "Welcome to my life, Cas! This has been my bullshit for years."

Cas sat as well. "I apologize."

He waved him off, obviously still more than a little buzzed. "Whatever, man. Just...Dean's doing what he needs to do."

There was silence, only broken by the movie score. Cas could only think of the way Dean had rebuffed him, had turned his advances away. It hurt more than Cas had expected.

Sam eventually got up and took a shower, coming back in his boxers and curling up under the covers. He was snoring by the time Ashley dealt his final blow. The television was echoing 'Tara' when Cas cut it off. The wall was silent, so Cas also turned off the lights, and he lay down.

Sleep never came.

XxxX

"What the fuck has been your problem?"

Castiel sighed heavily, looking away from Dean's profile, glowing in the light from the pyre fire. He could pretend to not know what Dean was talking about, but Cas knew he'd been moody in the week since Arkansas. 

The next morning, Dean had brought Cas and Sam coffee. The niceness of the gesture was off-set with the information that Dean had gotten a cryptic phone call from a man named Terry.

"Tell me about Terry."

Cas didn't need to look at Dean to know he was being glared at. Dean wasn't famed for his patience, but through some luck he decided to humor Cas.

"You met him."

Cas nodded at the pyre. "We spoke for five minutes. You knew him well."

Dean shrugged. "He was a friend of Dad's. They hunted a, uh...I think it was a coven. Something about stealing orphans. Actually, I hadn't thought about it, but the last hunt Dad and I went on before he disappeared was with Terry."

He paused, clearing his throat. Cas drew in his shoulders and pulled his coat tighter. The air not heated by the fire was cold, as to be expected in Vermont.

"Terry, he...He came across a bunch of people who went missing in a zoo. It turned out it was a vengeful spirit of a hyena. That was a weird one."

Cas nodded. "You expected something like that again. When he called you."

"Well, yeah I guess. But, it was just a vamp nest. A guy like Terry, I figured he'd go out big."

Cas continued to nod, intent on keeping Dean's train of thought distracted. "His death gives you perspective."

Dean kicked at the ground. "I guess. But..."

Cas looked at him. "I still wanna know. What the hell has been wrong with you?"

He returned his attention to the fire. "It's nothing, Dean. I have been foolish, and it isn't important."

"Come on, man. Anything that bothers you this bad is important. _You're_ important."

The response came unbidden, and Cas wished he had the power to shove words back into his mouth. "Oh, _now_ I'm important."

Dean frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? You're always important."

Cas sighed. "This...Isn't the time or place."

Dean glanced at the pyre. "Terry doesn't care. Come on, tell me."

When Cas didn't say anything, Dean reached over and grabbed his wrist, tugging lightly. "Cas. You gotta..."

Cas yanked his arm away. "You...Dean, you...You no longer want to have sexual relations with me. Which is fine, but I would have liked it if you'd gone about it with a little more tact."

Dean looked confused, which only made Cas angry. "I didn't say I didn't want...Hey, is this about Darla?"

It was Cas's turn to look confused. "Who is Darla?"

"You remember..."

All Dean did was hold his hands cupped a few inches in front of his chest. Miming breasts, Cas realized. 

"You...Cas, I'm gonna try and say this as nicely as I can. We ain't boyfriends."

Cas waved his hands. "No, _no_ , I never thought we were. I just...I thought..."

Dean shrugged with impatience when Cas couldn't come up with the words. "You thought what? Tell me, Cas. Just, if you talk to me about this, I'll try and fix it."

Cas was taken aback by the resolution in his tone. "Oh. Well, I. Dean, I had mentioned it, and you said you didn't want sex. Then, you showed up with..."

"Darla," Dean offered, a look of understanding crossing his face.

"Yes. You dismissed me, called me _baggage_. Dean, that hurt."

He'd had a point; talking it out was helpful.

"I...okay, Cas, I get it. But...I just wanted something simple that night, with someone I didn't know, no feelings whatsoever. You get what I'm sayin'?"

There was something pulling painfully at Cas's heart at his words. "There's feelings?"

Dean backtracked so hard at that. "What? No, no feelings here. But...I mean, there's friendlike feelings. And, I didn't even want that, that night."

"You wanted a stranger."

Dean clasped his hands together in emphasis. "Thank you, _yes_. But you're wrong. I do wanna have 'sexual relations' with you. I...I been thinking about it."

He had moved much closer to Cas, and had now reached out and put a warm, firm hand on Cas's hip. "I think about it a lot."

Cas took a step back. "Dean...Your friend..."

But Dean just snorted loudly. "Please. Terry was as gay as the Fourth of July. He's sitting in the afterlife waving pompoms and singing Barry White right 'bout now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dean smiled, chuckling, and stepped closer, now looping his arm around Cas's waist, hand low on his hip. "Cas, I..."

The sentence faded off, but the fond look on Dean's face didn't. "You what?"

"Nothing. Just...Remember, never change, okay?"

Cas simply nodded, and also moved in closer, so they were barely inches apart. "I'll do my best."

Dean's response of, "that's all I ask," was murmured against Cas's mouth. His kiss was deep, warmth and infinite fondness flowing through it. They stood there for several minutes, simply kissing, the pyre hot and crackling next to them.

Eventually, Dean pulled away, nose rubbing against Cas's. "Sam'll be expecting us back soon."

He sounded regretful. "Of course."

Dean shook his head. "I...Get in the car."

Cas was confused by the direction, but moved to comply. He was further confused when Dean interrupted him, hand on the passenger side door handle.

"No, I meant...Get in the back."

"Why?"

Dean had a comically consternated expression on his face. He closed his eyes, and if Cas didn't know Dean so well, he'd almost think he was praying for patience. "Just... _Get_ in the back."

Cas was surprised, then, when Dean slid in, too, and straddled Cas's lap. "Hey."

He looked Dean up and down, amused at the way the man was wiggling his hips, as if trying to find the most comfortable position on the couch. "Hello, Dean."

Dean smile widened, and he put his hands on Cas's shoulders. "Glad you're here, man."

Cas frowned with some confusion, even as his own hands sought Dean's waist, his thumbs kneading into the soft pudges of skin over hip bones, hidden from full touch by clothing. "Do you mean specifically here and now?"

Dean shrugged and leaned in, kissing Cas below his ear. "Just a general...gladness."

He sucked the skin there roughly, dragging teeth across the area. Cas shuddered. Dean had made an unofficial rule of their arrangement after he had left that welt on Cas's collarbone in Montana; that there would be no marks left on either of them. He wanted marks, though. Cas wanted a vaguely sore patch of skin to remind him that the experience had been real. That this gorgeous man had actually chosen him for a few brief moments.

"Don't worry," Dean murmured after Cas groaned when he pressed his tongue there again. "It won't..."

"I want it to," Cas interrupted, taking a hand and weaving the fingers into Dean's nape, trying to press him closer.

But Dean pulled away, an amused twinkle in his eye. "Yeah? That, uh...Is that something you think about?"

Cas relaxed his hold on Dean's hair, but didn't let go. "I have occasionally. Is that...Something wrong?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Nah. I'll, uh. Think about it."

Before Cas could ask what it was, exactly, that Dean would be thinking about, Dean leaned back. He shrugged out of his jacket, and then his green and blue flannel shirt. They both ended up on the floorboard. 

Cas took the hint and began pulling off his own jacket while Dean stripped himself of his black t-shirt. It, Cas's jacket, and the dark grey Henley he'd liberated from Dean's bag all joined the pile.

Dean reached out and ran his fingertips over the warding near Cas's hip. Eventually he smoothed his hand out, Dean's palm now hovering hot over the marks. 

That was when the phone rang. It was muffled, but still distinctly the strains of 'Let It Go'. Sam had gotten ahold of Dean's phone and changed the ringtones around. Either Dean had no idea how to switch it back, or he was leaving it in place in an act of passive-aggressive one-up-manship. 

Dean began shuffling around and huffed when Cas made a whiney noise in his throat. "Look, man, if I don't pick up, he'll call you. When you don't pick up, he'll drive out here. Neither of us want that."

He straightened up, but didn't unstraddle Cas's lap. If anything, the movements brought their naked torsos closer.

"Hey, Sam."

Cas was close enough to hear Sam's timbre, but not his words. "Yeah, it's fine."

Dean leaned closer, pressing his lips to Cas's gently. "No. I'd give the fire another twenty minutes before we can leave it safely."

Cas cut his eyes to the side. The pyre had burned down low enough that they could leave it now. "Yeah, Sam, that's fine. Geek out all you want. Me and Cas'll see you back at the motel."

Dean pulled the mouthpiece away, and raised his voice. He had to pretend they weren't inches apart. "Sam says hey."

Cas didn't trust himself to respond verbally and not mess everything up so he simply nodded. "Cas says hey back."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he snapped and ended the call, tossing the phone back on to the pile of clothing. He reached out and put his hands on Cas's shoulders, squeezing gently. 

"He's going to see some nerdy movie thing. We, uh...We got time, if you want."

To answer, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, and tugged him closer, his lips happily finding the skin of Dean's chest.

Castiel had done some...research into this. He had been viewing humanity since its inception, he knew how this worked. At least, he did theoretically. But he lacked a practical knowledge. So Cas had sought the information on the Internet. Some of the videos were very compelling, although Cas had gotten distracted a few times. 

This was intensely different, however; having Dean warm and on top of him rather than as a figment, skin an imaginary fabric in his hands.

Dean groaned above him as Cas kissed a line across his body to one nipple. His skin tasted like the wood fire outside the window. 

"Shit, man, you're getting good at this."

Cas pulled away, his breath making the bud harden. "I have had an excellent teacher."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "You talkin' about me, or you been fucking around with someone else?"

Cas went back to his ministrations, now on the opposite side. "Only you, Dean."

That silenced Dean's breathy laughter. Something tangibly changed in the air in the car. Something was new, something charged. Dean leaned back, but surged in to kiss Cas very deeply. Soon, though, he pulled back from that as well.

"Lay down."

Cas looked at Dean, taking in the subtle order in his tone. "What..."

But Dean pushed at his shoulder. "Lay down. I got an idea."

They were two fully grown men, neither of them exactly short by anyone's definition other than Sam's. Dean insisted on them kicking their boots off, so as to not scuff the upholstery. Then there was a lot of rearranging, knees in uncomfortable places, and Dean banged his head on the roof once, but they eventually settled.

Cas was on his back, the leather sticking to his now slightly sweating skin. His left knee was pulled up, and his right leg was actually over the edge and in the floor. Dean was on top of him, braced on his hand and forearm, his feet crammed in between the door and the seat.

"This'll work," Dean whispered, before he kissed a spot on Cas's breastbone, about three inches below his collar. He stayed there, laving the spot.

"Cas?"

He jumped, as much as he could given the circumstances. He wasn't sure how much he liked the feeling of being so closed in. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Dean breathed against his skin, hot, but it still brought goosebumps to the area. "Touch me, then."

Cas hesitantly raised his hands, but Dean huffed, and pushed away. Cas watched as Dean loosened his belt, then shoved his pants and boxers down past his hips. 

He knew they were alone, but this patch of forest wasn't actually that far from a town. Getting fully undressed was a bad idea. Dean settled back down, his half-hard erection catching against Cas's, and they both groaned a little.

Dean chased his groan, tongue dipping deep into Cas's mouth before he pulled away. "Touch me, Cas."

He resumed kissing at that spot, and it occurred to Cas that he was giving him the mark that he'd asked for. Cas could provide this for Dean, he told himself.

He had done his research, had even experimented some of what he'd seen on himself, but it hadn't prepared Cas for how heavy Dean would feel in his hand, or for the stomach-curdling nausea that came over him when he realized he had no idea what he was doing, not really.

"Cas?"

Dean seemed to have caught on to the inner turmoil. "I...I'm sorry. Give me a minute, and..."

But Dean shifted his weight so he could touch Cas's cheek. "You're shaking."

He went to pull away, but Cas wrapped both arms around his waist so he couldn't. "Don't. I'm fine, I..."

"Cas."

There was something hard in his tone. "You're _shaking_. If you don't want to do this, I'm not gonna make you."

Cas sighed, avoiding the clear green eyes trying to seek his own. "I don't know how to do this. I am...nervous, and I..."

"Hey."

He gave in, and met Dean's gaze. By some miracle, there was understanding there. "You don't have to do this."

"I _want_ to."

"Okay. Cas, I get you're nervous. But I know you know how to do this."

He must have looked confused because Dean snorted. "You get off, I know you do."

It clicked. "Oh. Masturbation. Yes, I do that."

Dean cleared his throat. "Just...The same concept applies, here. I'm...I'm not picky, Cas. I don't...There's no damn curb for technique, or anything. I just...Wanna be with you. So."

He cleared his throat again, louder. He was clearly embarrassed. Castiel wasn't much better. Both of their erections had wilted some, and Cas wasn't sure the situation could be saved.

The times before had been effortless. They had also been hasty, no time to think about little hang-ups like nerves. Dean had also taken charge those other times, preferring to control his own orgasms. Despite having rutted against him, this was actually the first time Cas had touched Dean, skin to skin.

But Dean would always excel at surprising Cas. He carded a hand through his hair, and kissed him deeply again. "How about...You show me. You know, what you do when you, you know. Just show me _on_ me."

Cas frowned, but nodded. It was an odd request, but he would do what he could. He got another kiss for that. It seemed that Dean was finished with his chest, because he stayed, exploring Cas's mouth with his own. He pulled back long enough to say, "Ready when you are."

So Cas reached up. Dean was somewhat shorter than he was, but was also thicker in the girth. It was a difference, but Cas was still able to work with the idea that he was showing Dean what he did.

The angle was awkward. Cas fumbled, and was consistently distracted by the way Dean would moan against his mouth. He was, in fact, ready to pull away, certain that Dean could get no pleasure from this. But Cas couldn't argue that Dean was getting harder in his hand. He was making shallow thrusts against him. The moans were deeper and Dean seemed to be loosing his coordination. 

He _was_ enjoying this.

Dean soon lost the ability to kiss, he was panting so hard. He just breathed against Cas's neck, and eventually began to shake. "Oh, God, Cas...You're..."

"Usually, when I'm doing this, I end up thinking about you. Does that help?"

Dean chuckled and it turned into a choked groan, Cas possibly having mastered the twisty movement that Dean seemed to prefer. "You're....ha, you...You're a funny guy, Cas."

He was gripping the leather seat so hard, Cas could hear it squeaking slightly, and Dean's breath was blisteringly hot against his ear. "Shit, Cas. I'm...Uhg, God, I'm close."

Cas just nodded, and tightened his hold minutely. He was almost afraid to do so; the last thing he wanted was to harm Dean. For a brief second, he believed he had. Dean made this bit off grunt, but then he also started rocking his hips harder. 

Castiel watched as Dean's face screwed up, teeth gritting harshly and his eyes closed tight. He made an almost pained noise, a drawn out mix between a grunt and a moan. 

Gravity worked against them, and most of Dean's come ended up on Cas. But Dean ended up smearing it all over himself, the strength in his arms giving out, and he collapsed on Cas's chest, his lips touching against Cas's jaw.

There was a long silence, comfortable but still slightly charged. Several minutes passed before Dean lifted himself up again. There was a softness around his eyes that Cas was unaccustomed to.

"See? Knew you'd do okay."

He sat up, repositioning himself so he was actually kneeling between Cas's left leg and the edge of the seat. Dean reached out, copying his movement of earlier, and put his hand over the tattoo. 

"That was good, Cas. Real good. Now...You wanna know how _I_ do it?"

Cas swallowed harshly at the promise in his tone. "Yes. Please show me."

He wasn't finished speaking before Dean started pulling his belt loose. "Here. Lift up."

Cas did so, pushing his hips up far enough to slide his jeans and boxers down. 

"Now, I don't really have anything here in the car we can use for lube, so..."

He extended his right hand, positioned as if to give a high-five. "Lick."

Cas rose up on his elbows to get closer, and placed an open-mouthed kiss in the center of the palm. "This seems odd, Dean."

But Dean just chuckled. "It's okay. Keep going."

So Cas continued to kiss around his hand, until he got to the fingers. He had seen something like this in one of his videos. He licked the length of Dean's index finger, and then drew it into his mouth. Dean huffed out a laugh.

"Damn, Cas."

Cas kept going like that, Dean chucking occasionally, claiming he was ticklish, until he pulled his hand away. Cas lowered himself back down, and rather than immediately putting his hand on Cas, Dean bent in for a kiss. "Pay attention. There's gonna be a quiz later."

He felt a nervous laugh build in his throat, but it was soon chased away when Dean finally touched him.

Dean's hand felt hotter than his own ever did. In fact, Cas had been concerned by how cold his hands had become as a human. Dean had yet to complain, though. The moist heat made a difference, providing the illusion that his length was being enveloped by something other than a hand. His grip was immediately tighter than Cas had ever used on himself, and he understood why right away.

Dean effortlessly began a hard, almost bruising rhythm. He was twisting, and running his thumb along the most sensitive areas.

This wasn't the first time Dean had gotten him off this way, but it had been preceded by other activities, and Cas had orgasmed quickly. This was long, drawn-out, and Cas wished it could continue, he and Dean here, feeling this pleasure for hours more.

But all too soon, Cas felt that tell-tale coiling below his stomach. "Dean, I..."

Dean came forward, putting his free hand on Cas's neck and kissing him. "Gettin' close?"

Cas could only nod. He felt like he should be embarrassed by the noises he imagined were coming from his mouth, but Dean kissed him harder. 

"Do it. Come for me, Cas."

There was a pull inside of him, eager to do what Dean had asked of him, but the orgasm just wouldn't happen. 

"I...I'm sorry, I..."

Dean touched their noses together. "Relax. You're getting caught up in your own head. Just..."

He gave Cas a very gentle kiss. "Relax."

The whole time, Dean hadn't stopped the movement of his hand. He sped up a bit, kissing lower, sucking harshly at the area he had been paying such attention to earlier.

"I'm...Trying, just...God, Dean, that feels..."

Cas felt a huff of air on his chest. "Made you blaspheme. Must be doing something right."

"It, no. It's not blasphemy when I do it."

Dean pulled his mouth away. "We really talking about this? I'm trying to get you off, here. My hand is gonna cramp up."

He sat up, hand briefly leaving Cas, but he quickly resumed. Dean then put his other hand in between Cas's legs, prodding at the skin behind his testicles. 

Cas yelped. "Dean, oh...That was..."

Dean did it again and Cas felt his erection jump, twitching heavily in Dean's firm hand. "Yeah, come on, Cas. That's it."

He smoothed his fingers out and massaged the area. The tip of Dean's longest finger touched the outside of Cas's rim. 

His whole body jerked, and the orgasm swept over him, Dean's hand working him through the shocks. After a minute, Cas had to bat at his wrist with shaking fingers. 

"That's becoming uncomfortable."

"Oh thank Jesus."

Dean pulled away flexing his fingers. "I ain't gonna be able to jack myself off for a week."

He pointed with his left hand. " _You_ are on on-call duty."

Cas laughed and closed his eyes, drowsy contentment filling every corner of his mind. But Dean clicked his tongue.

"No, no babe. You can fall asleep on the drive back, but we gotta get cleaned up and dressed."

Cas opened his eyes, uncertain if he had hallucinated the endearment. But Dean was pulling a bandana from the pocket of his discarded jacket. Most of the mess was on Cas, but Dean diligently cleaned them both.

Soon, they were rebuckling belts and shrugging into shirts. Before Cas pulled his over his head, Dean put a hand on his chest. "There. No one'll see, it's just for you."

Cas looked down. It was a good sized hickey, and wouldn't fade for days. He smiled, and looked at Dean. "Thank you."

Dean just brushed him off, seemingly embarrassed, and climbed out of the backseat. Cas got dressed and joined him. Dean was poking around the pyre, now mostly extinguished. 

"We're good to go. Get back in."

Cas didn't take his gruff tone too personally. Dean often was off-sorts after they had engaged in intimacies. It was inexplicable, but Cas wasn't interested in exploring the why. Dean was a lovely mystery.

Shortly down the rough forest path, Dean turned on one of his tapes. Cas had been making it a point to pay attention to music, and comment on the songs he liked. Dean had told him that music tastes could tell you a lot about someone. There had been a few songs, heard in diners and grocery stores, that Dean had given him a skeptical glare over. But this was one of Dean's songs. 

The guitar riff was very nice, and the lyrics spoke to him. "I like this one."

Dean jumped, then turned the volume up a couple of notches. He listened, then a small smile pulled at his lips. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

Dean nodded, and was silent. But a couple of miles down the road, he put his hand on Cas's knee.

They stayed that way all the way to the motel.


End file.
